


Madness

by crystalusagi



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Drug Addiction, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-26
Updated: 2013-08-26
Packaged: 2017-12-24 17:32:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,247
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/942694
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crystalusagi/pseuds/crystalusagi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Snape finds Harry Potter collapsed at his front door.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Madness

**Author's Note:**

> For an Angst Bingo (LJ) prompt, "drug addiction." Thank you to the lovely [tofsla](http://tofsla.dreamwidth.org) for the beta, and [firescribble](http://firescribble.dreamwidth.org) for working through the idea with me.

_Thump thump thump._

  
Severus' eyes snap open. He reaches for his wand as the fog clears from his mind and gets out of bed. The noise is coming from downstairs. Someone at the door.

  
He is slipping on a dressing gown when he hears the _crash_.  He makes quick work of the stairs, wand raised before him; he pauses when he reaches the bottom.

  
Harry Potter lies unconscious, in a small heap on top of the slab of wood that was formerly Severus Snape's door.

  
***

  
He stands for a moment in silent shock. Lily's son, collapsed on his doorstep. This is not happening all over again. He is done with this nonsense, has been for years.

  
He makes his way over to Potter and stares down at the boy. James Potter's wild hair, but even from here he can see the stubborn set of Lily's chin, that slight curve of his mouth that never belonged to James. The regret hits him, as sudden as the banging on the door.

  
But then Potter groans, turns over onto his back. Severus lets out the breath he didn't know he'd been holding in and crouches down to feel Potter's pulse; it beats too fast for comfort. And Potter is shivering.

  
"Potter," Severus calls, gives him a shake until his eyes focus on Severus' face. "What are you doing in my house?"

  
"Snape," Potter rasps, blinks as if he isn't quite sure who it is he's actually speaking to. "Please."

  
***

  
"Just another dose." Potter's eyes are red-rimmed, bloodshot with exhaustion, like he hasn't slept in days. Very probably he hasn't.

  
Severus draws up all the rage and indignation he can muster. "If you think I'm fool enough to agree to something that even an idiot like Draco Malfoy has refused, I see no reason not to curse you, Potter."

  
Laughter. Potter leans back against the sofa and put his hands to his face, mutters something through them that could as easily be "do it" as "fuck you." Possibly it is both.

  
"Quicksilver," Severus snarls. "What possessed you?"

  
The hands come down. "Power," is all Potter says.

  
Quicksilver, named for the silvery threads that wind through the otherwise clear liquid when properly brewed, is a highly illegal substance that gives the user waking dreams--hallucinations. It also enhances the user's connection to his or her own source of magic, breaks down walls that keep magic contained. The penalty for possession or use of quicksilver is three years in Azkaban.

  
"Ah. Because you have so little to begin with. Only the mighty Savior of the Wizarding World."

  
He's ready for Potter when the boy jumps out of his seat and comes at him, "Shut up!" spat at him as Potter struggles to get free.

  
Severus presses his wand firmly into the flesh of Potter's throat, squeezes Potter's neck under his grip until Potter is gasping, choking a little. "Mind your manners."

  
***

  
Eventually he lets go; it was between letting go or choking Potter to death, and he doesn't find the idea of another murder trial particularly appealing.

  
"I will _not_ give you another dose of quicksilver, Potter. Not even if it kills you." He wasn't sure it wouldn't.

  
"Fine," Potter growls, face twisted in anger, "I'll find some other bloody way." He turns and stomps purposefully towards the broken doorway.

  
Don't do it, Snape tells himself, even as he raises his wand hand. Do not. " _Stupefy_."

  
A thud as Potter falls to the ground. He stands there staring at the body, lying in almost exactly the same spot he found Potter a few hours before. He could call the Aurors now, and they might believe him--it would be easy enough to test Potter for the drug's influence. Then they could wheel him off to St. Mungo's. Azkaban is only a faint possibility; he is still Harry Potter, after all.

  
Potter is not his business. Not anymore.

  
He notices a twitch in Potter's finger. Frowns. Walks over and nudges at the body with his foot. No, it is no use lying to himself. His debts will never truly be paid. Not to Harry Potter.

  
" _Mobilicorpus_." 

  
***

  
"Let me go." The chains rattle; so do the bottles on the shelves. Severus makes a mental note to move all potions ingredients out of the room when Potter is asleep. He points his wand at the straps around Potter's wrists and ankles; they tighten further, and Potter winces. Distraction is the key.

  
"You bastard." Said bitterly, as if Severus is the one person Potter hates most in all the world. Considering the fact that Voldemort has been vanquished and his death eaters are either dead or rotting in Azkaban, it may as well be the truth.

  
"Yes, Potter, I am the bastard who is not feeding you dangerous hallucinogens that may result in your spontaneous combustion or the leveling of Wizarding London. Shut your mouth."

  
It is a surprise when Potter does.

  
He works in blessed silence for most of the morning, stopping occasionally to make sure Potter hasn't choked in his own bile or managed to work his bonds loose. He checks Potter's temperature and contemplates St. Mungo's over and over again.

  
But what would it look like now, for them to find Harry Potter strapped to a bed, looking half-dead with his wrists bleeding and his mind addled with sleep potions?

  
He doesn't bother to cast a healing charm on Potter's wounds--let those be a distraction as well. The boy will need all the distractions he can find.

  
***

  
The moaning begins just before evening.

  
Potter twists and turns as best he can in his restraints, fouls himself, cries. Severus watches him and continues to brew; the sleep potions don't quite manage to knock him out, but they dull his senses enough to keep his wandless magic weak and erratic at best.

  
"Please," Potter begs. "Please, Snape." There is a dark patch on the pillow's fabric where his tears have pooled. Severus has only seen him cry once before like this, when Sirius Black was killed. He imagines Potter cried this way for Albus too.

  
"I understand this is a difficult concept to grasp, but do try to get it through that thick skull of yours, Potter, that I will not be handing down your death sentence." No, that was always Albus' job. Severus only ever helped to carry it out.

  
Potter gasps, moans again. The walls tremble around them; some books fall from the shelf in the corner.

  
He reaches out and puts a hand on Potter's forehead. His temperature is up. "Potter." He lays a palm-stinging slap on Potter's cheek just as his prep table begins to levitate. "Be still." The table crashes to the floor again, and in his relief he lets his hand slide down to the side of Potter's face--just an accident--but Potter, inexplicably, leans his cheek against it.

  
He could pretend that he's someone from whom Potter could seek comfort, from whom a hand on the cheek could be reassurance. He remembers Dumbledore's hand on his face just like this, warmth and acceptance, and obligation, too.

  
Miraculously, Potter drifts off into sleep. It is only then that Severus pulls his hand away.

  
***

  
"If I free you from the restraints, you will not move from this bed."

  
A small headshake from Potter.

  
"I swear to you that you will not like what I'll do if I catch you out of it."

  
"I won't," the boy responds in a hoarse voice. "Promise."

  
Severus taps the bonds at Potter's wrists with his wand, then the ankles. Potter rubs at the bruises for only a second, then curls up into a ball and falls asleep.

  
***

  
The creaking is what wakes him. He is up and heading for the stairs in less than a minute, already used to Potter's late-night interruptions. An unrestrained Potter could be worse. Damn him, he should never have agreed.

  
It is not what he expects. Potter's not trying to climb out the windows, not rummaging through drawers looking for his wand.

  
His blanket is pushed to the side, and through the open crack in the door Severus can see his hand moving, up and down along his cock. He hears the slick sound of skin sliding against skin, hears Potter moan, low and desperate.

  
It is not until Potter has found his release, twisting in Severus' bed, one hand clutching at the sheets, that Severus realizes he should have left, should have gone back downstairs ages ago.

  
***

  
Potter takes five days to recover.

  
"Sorry," he says sheepishly the first day he's able to stand by himself and can observe the mess of broken furniture around him. "I'll pay you back."

  
That is what I should be telling you, Severus manages not to say. "Naturally you will," he says instead.

  
***

  
Lunchtime, a tray of broth and some bread in Potter's lap which he mostly ignores.

  
"I could leave. Give you your bed back." An image of Potter, writhing in his bed, cock in hand, flashes into Severus' mind.

  
"And I suppose any inn-keeper wouldn't just take one look at you and run to the Prophet saying he's found the missing Harry Potter?"

  
Potter frowns. "I told them I was taking some time off. A holiday."

  
"To where? A very special Death Eater torture chamber in the Balkans?"

  
"Point." Potter grimaces. "I shouldn't stay. I don't want to impose any more than I already have."

  
"How fortunate for us all that it isn't your choice," Severus tells him blankly. "Eat."

  
***

  
"It was Ron," Potter explained, as if he owed Severus any explanation at all. "I had to come without a wand. Wandless magic was the only way." Only an idiot like Draco Malfoy would come up with quicksilver as the solution for a hostage situation.

  
"And was it worth it?"

  
Potter frowns now. "Of course it was. They would have killed him."

  
"I was not exaggerating when I said you could have died." As if Potter sacrificing his life for everybody else was anything new.

  
"It was Ron."

  
Stupid Potter and his stupid ideals. And Severus is stupid for caring.

  
***

  
"I saw you. That night in the doorway."

  
He is touching Potter's forehead, checking for a fever, a habit that's outgrown necessity. He pulls his hand back. "What night?" he asks, willing his face to blankness.

  
The look Potter gives him is determined. "You watched me. While I--"

  
"Potter," he interrupts.

  
Potter's eyes are wide as he peers up at him, but there's none of the horror or disgust that Severus expects in them. "Why? Why did you?"

  
That is the question, isn't it?

  
"I wanted to make sure you wouldn't bring the house down."

  
"What, with my--?" The boy colors. "I see." A shaky laugh. "Well, thanks. Sorry about that."

  
"Don't mention it."

  
***

  
Potter stays another three days, recuperating and repairing Severus' furniture piece by piece. Severus finds him sitting at the kitchen table dressed in the clothes he came in, that first night. He had cleaned them for him and laid them by the bed, but Potter's been wearing one of Severus' old nightshirts for over a week.

  
"I thought I'd make us a farewell breakfast," Potter tells him. Severus doesn't ask how he's managed to find the cookware.

  
They are almost done with the food before Severus says anything.

  
"The next time you feel the urge to experiment with illegal substances, do let me know so I can hit you over the head with your own giant ego."

  
Potter stops chewing; smiles, unexpectedly.

  
"What?"

  
Potter's smile widens. "I thought you wouldn't want to have anything to do with me after this."

  
He looks away, back down at his eggs, and snarls. "I never said I do. Are you missing the point on purpose?"

  
***

  
Potter leans against the doorframe and hesitates.

  
"What is it?" he asks gruffly, seems always to be asking.

  
"I--don't want to leave." He looks as surprised as Severus feels.

  
"Not to worry. I am certain your life in the outside world has not imploded in your absence." He's checked the papers every day, after all. Not that he would tell Potter if it has.

  
Something softens in Potter's expression, and he seems to be considering. Considering what, Severus cannot presume to know. Then Potter moves closer, steps back over the threshold and directly into Severus' space.

 

He could move now. Get out of the way as Potter reaches for him. But he can almost deceive himself into believing that he does not know what's coming next, and that is enough to keep him rooted to the spot as Potter touches him, one hand first on his chest, then another at his cheek.

 

Almost a caress. Madness. Madness madness madness.

 

Potter's lips are dry when they press against his; only briefly, a question more than anything. Against his better judgment, Severus answers.

  
***

  
"So."

  
"You're an idiot."

  
Potter chuckles. "Well, yes. But you seem to be tolerating it. My idiocy."

  
"Yes, and what a perfectly healthy basis for a--" A relationship? He isn't sure what Potter wants, doesn't want to have this discussion at all. "It's madness."

  
"Doesn't matter. I'd like to. If that's okay." Such earnest in his voice. Idiot, indeed.

  
"Do as you wish, Potter. You always have."

  
A hum from Potter. Then fingers in his hair, warmth at the side of his neck as Potter leans in for another kiss.

  
Severus closes his eyes and succumbs to the madness.

 

 

  
\----the end

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and kudos much appreciated! <3


End file.
